Azriel's Tale

Azriel's Tale - Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4:

As the weeks went by and the cooler weather arriving un-naturally quickly, the members and citizens of the Night Court had comfortably settled into a routine following the recent war with Hybern and Feyre creating the new Treaty. 

Elain spent most of her days either cooking or gardening, much to Nesta's delight. Feyre and Rhysand were always far too preoccupied with each other, Mor controlling the relationship between the Court of Dreams and the Court of Nightmares. Surprisingly, Mor and her father spoke more often and things weren't so obviously tense. Cassian, as always, looking over the Illyrian warbands and much to his delight many females finally, finally started to revolt against their misogynist families. Mor felt particularly positive about this change for obvious reasons. 

Everyone had some routine, some pattern, some order to their lives. But Azriel, Azriel still felt unsettled after the War. Amren's routine, the Cauldron only knew. The Inner Circle always just thought she did whatever she wanted as the mood struck her. 

Despite the War being over for over 6 months now, Azriel's still felt as though he would wake up the next morning to go to battle. He was still doing so now. As he punched the bag chained to the wall repeatedly. 1-2. 1-2. Wrong. Wrong. This is all wrong. He grunted in frustration and pushed himself away to drink some water. He felt incomplete as if something hadn't happened yet. He returned to the punching bag eager to release his frustrations, which, to his annoyance was apparent to his family. 

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"Az! Azriel, stop." That voice. That oh so familiar voice called to him. Rhysand. "Azriel you're hurting yourself." Azriel had been in a haze, not focusing on anything but the bag chained to the wall in front of him, but now that was not the case.

Rhysand had turned him, so that Rhys was now in front of him gripping his wrists to stop them from moving. So close, so close to the scars which haunted him. Azriel looked at his hands, at his knuckles. 

Blood.

He was bleeding. He had been pushing himself so much, his body was beginning to break, to push back, as if his body was saying 'No. Enough,' but Azriel had simply not noticed. It wasn't as if he was purposefully trying to damage himself, but he had still found himself in this position. Uncaring. He sighed.  Rhysand, noticing his frustration, thought it would be best to remove Azriel from this environment for the time being. He winnowed himself and the Shadowsinger to an area of Velaris, surrounded by beauty, but was mostly desolate and not known to many but the Inner Circle. The city was in full view. Rhys gestured to Azriel to take a seat on the nearby bench. He obliged.

"I didn't even realise what I was doing. I'm fine, I didn't mean to worry you." Az blurted out to his brother, wanting to ease the evident worry on his face. But, this had the opposite effect.

"That is what is worrying me, Az. By the Cauldron, you didn't even realise what you were doing. What if I hadn't have stopped by the training room?" He asked. A silence fell between the two of them as the Illyrians both contemplated the events that had just transpired. 

"I would have stopped."

"You don't know that!" Rhys snapped. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He quickly amended. "I just-I've just been noticing some things about you these last few months, and it is beginning to concern me." 

"Months? No." Azriel defended. "I admit, I haven't been myself, but only in these past weeks or so."

"Are you sure about that?" The Lord asked. "Or do you think that's just when you started to notice it?" His tone was gentle but forceful. Forceful enough for Azriel to really take in his words. He hadn't noticed he was damaging his body, so why would he have noticed his change in behaviour? Damn him. 

 

Another chapter! Please do give me your feedback, I'll respond and hopefully act on comments as best as I can. I am eager to adapt and grow my writing, but I need responses! Thank you! -Jessica